


in your storm

by chasingjupiter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Thunderstorms, like a lot of crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingjupiter/pseuds/chasingjupiter
Summary: jihoon doesn't want to admit he's afraid of thunderstorms. soonyoung doesn't want to have the Talk but has had enough of the tension brewing between them.sooner or later, they're going to have to sort out their shit.(the weather is nudging them towards sooner.)





	in your storm

**Author's Note:**

> i was going to edit this more but tbh i just gave up

When he looks out the window, Jihoon is startled to see that it’s started pouring in the few hours he’s been toiling at his laptop.

His earbuds have been securely lodged in his ears for the past four or so hours, effectively blocking out all sound around him. Maybe a little too effective. He doubts that he would notice if someone walked in and kidnapped him.

Any other sane person would lower the volume of the music, or maybe loosen the way his earbuds are shoved into his ears. Jihoon is decidedly not sane. He relishes the way the bass thumps directly into his eardrums, the voices that croon intimately, the way everything vanishes around him. It’s so much better for his work, and so much better for his antisocial tendencies. No one seems to bother him when he has his earbuds in.

Although he does admit that it’s a shame that he didn’t realize it was going to rain, because when he hesitantly takes out the left earbud, a crack of thunder makes him yelp and stuff the earbud back in.

He’s not afraid of the thunder. He’s not, he swears. It just surprised him, and that’s why he looking in dismay at the storm that has snuck upon him, trapping him in his studio. He can’t go out in this weather; he’d have to slip his laptop under his shirt. He’d absently carried it under his arm when he’d arrived, and he hadn’t brought a backpack or anything else that can shield his precious belongings.

But.

But he doesn’t want to stay here for the rest of the day, when he’s surrounded by electronics and outlets and lots of things lightning might want to attack. He doesn’t to curl up in the corner and anxiously await his doom without a blanket or a mug of tea. When it thunderstorms, he has a routine. Something he can count on to soothe his nerves. It’s reassuring to know exactly what he’s doing, and right now? He has no fucking clue.

Jihoon weighs his (limited) options. He could ask Soonyoung to pick him up, but he doesn’t want to bother his– his what? His… friend. It's not like they’re on great terms right now, and he doesn’t deserve to ask for his help. Soonyoung is probably asleep now, anyway. It’s one am (Jihoon is kind of nocturnal. He seems to only be able to work in the dead of night.) and none of his other friends would be around.

He could try to run to his car and drive shakily back to his apartment, but to be honest, he doesn’t trust himself in a metal container in a thunderstorm. It’s more likely that he’ll get into a car accident than get home safely.  
Fuck. It’s either bother other people or face his own fears, and even though Jihoon is kind of an asshole, he craves sleep enough to know that everyone would _hate_ him if he woke any of them up. More than they already hate him, he means.

It looks like another sleepless night for Lee Jihoon, the musical genius, the hard–working producer, the idiot who is terrified of thunderstorms and doesn’t check the weather forecast.

 

–

 

Kwon Soonyoung is not asleep.

He knows his roommate isn’t home. He knows because he’s been waiting on the sofa for hours, waiting to start a long–awaited discussion. He’s been scolded enough times by his friends to also know that they need to have this discussion. Like, yesterday.

They’ve been dancing around the topic for ages. Soonyoung may be a dancer, but he’s not good at this emotional thing. He doesn’t know how to bring up the _so what are we?_ conversation like Jisoo. It’s a little harder for him and Jihoon when neither of them are the type to speak their feelings.

Soonyoung likes to show his feelings. He drapes himself over Jihoon’s shoulder, pokes his cheek, grabs his hands in a spontaneous coffee run. Simple.

Jihoon likes to stay hidden and curled up, to stamp down his feelings until they disappear. But they’ve been doing whatever this is for months, and Jihoon still stubbornly hasn’t said anything.

So Soonyoung is still awake. He’s waiting for the door to open, slam shut. Reveal Jihoon, probably rain–soaked, hair matted, eyes dark the way they always are after a night of working. It feels like Soonyoung hasn’t seen Jihoon in _forever_. They keep doing this, getting caught up in each other, fucking while they’re drunk, and waking up to even thicker tension in the air.

He misses messing with Jihoon’s colorful hair. He misses letting his fingers wander, splay on his back. He misses waking up to have Jihoon nestled by his side, to have a few moments of quiet when he can look at Jihoon with soft, soft eyes.

He misses Jihoon.

So when it’s been days since they last properly spoken, Soonyoung is nervous. He can’t stop bouncing his leg, fiddling with his phone, chewing on his lip. Jihoon keeps his phone turned off, he knows, while he’s at the studio, so it’s pointless calling him.

The thunder rises in volume, as if yelling at Soonyoung, and he remembers how anxious Jihoon gets during thunderstorms. Oh. _Oh._

Before he knows it, he’s pulling out of the parking lot and speeding to Jihoon’s studio, a blanket and flashlight (just in case) thrown carelessly into the backseat. Sure, whatever they have is awkward, but at least in the studio they can talk, or something. Or something. Knowing Jihoon, it’ll probably be hell to talk it out.

He squints as the rain pummels him on the way to the door, blanket in his arms. Soonyoung pounds on the door after a moment of hesitation, hoping Jihoon isn’t absorbed in the music again. It’s happened before, and he had to go to the window and tap on it for half an hour.

“Jihoon!” he bellows, hitting the door more desperately by the second. When he gets inside and Jihoon complains about the water, it’s going to be all his fault. His t–shirt is soaked already, hair in dark strands. “Open the door!”

It takes a few minutes for the door to open, and Soonyoung is so surprised he almost falls in. Into Jihoon’s equally surprised arms.

“What are you doing here?” he asks wonderingly, alarm gradually seeping into his voice. “Oh my god, what are you doing here? It’s raining! It’s thundering!”

“I noticed,” Soonyoung says dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. He can see how jittery Jihoon is, his hands trembling, lips bitten raw. He wants to envelop the younger in his (wet) arms, to press kisses to his cheeks and nose and lips, to wrap him in the blanket, squeeze his hand reassuringly.

Jihoon looks mildly panicked – scratch that, he’s _incredibly_ panicked – and drags Soonyoung in by his sleeve, slamming the door. “Get in here, you idiot,” he grumbles, surveying the pitiful state he’s in. “Is it possible to be this stupid? What are you doing here?”

Despite his harsh words, there’s a fond look in his eyes as he attempts to dry Soonyoung with a thin blanket he must have been clinging to. It makes his heart jump a little, and nothing more than this makes him want to smack himself.

“You don’t like thunderstorms,” Soonyoung says dumbly, slowly, as if it’s hard work to spit out the words. Which it is, a little.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jihoon shoots back, sighing as he plops down on the floor. “And anyway, that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, finally. It makes Jihoon turn towards him with a steely look in his eyes that says _don’t push it_ but Soonyoung pushes anyway because god dammit, he’s desperate for this stupid erratic relationship they have to turn into something… anything. Anything other than the constant cycle of hurt and ignore and fuck.

He sits down too, unfolding the blanket he brought and tossing it on Jihoon’s lap. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think we should.”

“If you know I don’t want to talk about it, then maybe you should drop it,” Jihoon says threateningly, but Soonyoung exhales shakily and looks up to meet his eyes.

“Jihoon,” he says softly, his gaze anything but. “You know we’ve been ignoring this for weeks. Hell, it’s been months. Why can’t we ever doing anything but hurt each other?”

The younger pulls his knees in and ducks his head. He looks so helpless, alone by the corner of the sofa, Soonyoung staring at his newly dyed blonde hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insists stubbornly, voice muffled.

“I’m talking about–” he takes a deep breath and rakes a hand through his hair before jumping off the cliff that is angering Jihoon. “I’m talking about how we get drunk and fuck and when we wake up, we never _talk_ about it. I’m talking about how there’s something more than being, don’t look at me like that, being fuck buddies or some shit. You know what I’m talking about, don’t deny it.”

Jihoon glares at him like every word is a spear he’s throwing, and for a moment they’re left in silence, the weight of his words echoing in the room. “Fuck you, Soonyoung,” he says, tense with cold fury.

When Jihoon says his name, it’s usually casual. Light. He’s not being narcissistic here, but when Jihoon normally says his name, it’s something soft and happy being thrown around. Quiet and soothing and bright. He likes it that way.  
Sometimes his name is strained and breathy in Jihoon’s mouth. A hissed out gasp, a cry of pleasure. Two syllables that make his heart ache, even as his lips are wrapped around Jihoon’s dick. Soonyoung doesn’t prefer it this way, but it’s infinitely better than the frosty tone he’s saying it in now.

“That’s what you did last week,” Soonyoung says bitterly. “And when I woke up, you were gone, and neither of us mentioned it. Why are we doing this?”

“Why are we doing this?” Jihoon echoes, voice hard. “Maybe we shouldn’t, if you’re going to act like this. I’ll just pack my shit and move in with Seungcheol, and you can have your wonderful two bedroom apartment to yourself and whatever hook–ups you have when you’re drunk.”

He wants to protest. He wants to plead for forgiveness, to tell Jihoon that maybe they should save this conversation for another time, and never bring it up again. But that’s the thing. If Soonyoung stops here, they’re never going to talk about this again. And even if he drives Jihoon to the brink of ending their entire relationship, at least he’ll have given it a shot.

“I don’t understand,” he says roughly, forcing his voice down with difficulty. “I don’t understand. Why don’t we ever talk about this?”

“Because there’s no need,” Jihoon snaps, curling back into himself.

“But there is,” he insists, chewing on the inside of his mouth as if trying to slow down the words flying out of his mouth. “It’s just– I’m always feeling that– we should–” and Jihoon laughs coldly at his stumbling, the usual soft folds of his laughter sharp and cruel and a little crazed.

He shakes his head, the small movements sharp and vicious. “Oh, shut up, Soonyoung, you’re making a mess out of nothing as usual.”

“Stop that,” the elder spits out. “Stop pretending there’s nothing happening here.”

“I’m not pretending,” Jihoon says innocently. “I really don’t see what’s going on. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Soonyoung knows that Jihoon’s always been a good actor, but the rapid smoothing and crumpling of his face is getting concerning, and to be frank, it’s a little scary. Jihoon’s face… it looks best when soft and smiling, beaming up at Soonyoung. Or focused on the screen, concentrating hard on a certain few measures that are challenging him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he thinks hard before his fingers fly again on the keyboard.

Now, Jihoon’s face is unreadable. His cheekbones and lines look sharp and unfriendly, shadows cast harshly on his pale skin.

“This is stupid,” Soonyoung retorts. “You’re so stubborn, you never let anyone tell you you’re wrong for once. I know you’re a genius and all, but sometimes you have to let people tell you when you’re being dumb.”

“Oh, I’m being dumb? That’s precious,” Jihoon says, laughing his cold, cold laugh again. It hurts Soonyoung to hear when the boy he loves is acting like this, to him of all people. “Do tell me about it, Soonyoung, tell me, how am I being dumb? You would know, wouldn’t you?”

He’s doing the mocking thing again. Where his eyes turn haughty and make fun of how low Soonyoung is, how unworthy he is of talking to Jihoon.

“I know I’m not as quick or witty or smart as you,” he begins, voice shaky.

“No shit,” he cuts in.

“But please, just acknowledge that there’s something between us. Okay? I’ll put myself out there if you won’t.”

Jihoon crosses his arms and frowns at him. “Go on, then, if you have so much to say.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says quietly. “Okay. Even while you’re looking at me like I’m dirt –” Jihoon shoots a glare at him – “Don’t be mad, you do that sometimes. Anyway. Even while you’re looking at me like I’m dirt, I don’t even mind, because you’re looking at me.”

Jihoon scoffs and opens his mouth to protest, but Soonyoung shushes him and hits his foot lightly. “Be quiet, this is taking a lot of courage and I’m going to shut down in about two minutes.” He takes a quick breath and moves on, speaking rapidly so Jihoon can’t get a single word in. He doesn’t fail to notice how Jihoon’s eyes have softened, or how his hands have disappeared into his sleeves and are fidgeting.

“I don’t know if you think of me as anything other than the occasional fuck – if so, I must be _really_ good in bed, because we live together and it’s awkward as hell – but I do know that I think of you as someone really important to me.

“I’m not sure if it’s, like, _love_ , oh come on, how am I supposed to confess when you’re looking at me like that? I, uh, I think you’re really great. You’re incredible when it comes to your work. You’re hard–working and you dedicate everything you have to what you care about, and I admire you a lot. You’re mean a lot of the time, and you hit me way too much to be considered socially acceptable, but I find myself liking it, because it means you’re comfortable enough to touch me casually like that. This is really embarrassing.”

Soonyoung puts his hands over his cheeks and feels how hot they are, but he manages to summon enough resolve to meet Jihoon’s eyes, which are disgustingly soft and warm as they look at him.

“It’s really embarrassing, yeah,” he repeats, getting ahold of his words again. “But. It’s worth it, for you. I like you a lot. Maybe it’s obvious when we have sex like every other week, but I think it’s necessary to say this. I like you. A lot.”

Jihoon is biting down hard on his bottom lip, and when Soonyoung looks closely at him, he thinks he might cry.

“You idiot,” he finally cries out. “What kind of – what kind of dumbass still likes someone who’s been a fucking asshole to them? What’s wrong with you? Oh my god, how are you – how are you still alive? You’re so,” he pauses, evidently unable to find a word strong enough to communicate how stupid Soonyoung is. “You’re so absurd! I can’t believe I’ve spent all this time – ugh, stop!”

Soonyoung thinks he may have broken Jihoon.

Once he gets ahold of himself, Jihoon sighs and sheepishly rubs the back of his head. “I’m sorry for being an ass,” he says quietly. “But I’m _really_ sorry you’re the biggest dumbass that ever existed to still like me after everything I put you through.”

Soonyoung is so surprised, he bursts into laughter. He should have known better than to expect a reasonable conversation with Jihoon, really. Maybe he is the world’s biggest dumbass. He should get that on a shirt.

“If you haven’t noticed yet, because you’re so dense,” Jihoon begins again. “I like you too. A good amount. Okay, a lot.”

“I think you’re cute when your eyes tilt up like that. I hate it when people call me cute, but I’d rather be cute for you than anyone else. I wish sharing the same cereal box and fucking occasionally weren’t the only characteristics we share with a normal relationship. I hide a lot because I’m afraid of what might happen. I didn’t want you to get too attached to me because I can’t give you what you’re probably expecting from a relationship. Shut up, I know what you’re going to say.

“Anyway. I just. I just want to warn you. Whatever you’re hoping for… it’s not going to be like that. As you know, I’m an asshole. And you’re a dumbass. But I’m willing to give this a try, if you’re willing to have me.”

Soonyoung is actually tearing up. God, he’s going to look so fucking ugly – more than he already does – when he straight–up sobs in front of Jihoon.

“Of course I will,” Soonyoung says, choked up. “Also. You’re mentioning a lot of asses here and there. Are you hinting at something?”

“No, shut up now before I hit you,” Jihoon replies smoothly. He hesitates before sitting up on his knees, and then flings himself at Soonyoung, burying his cold nose into his neck, making him yelp.

They sink into each other’s arms as if they were made to be here, crying into each other’s shoulders, still a little wet from the rain that has since stopped, still a little tense from an intense argument turned confession.

When Jihoon surfaces for air, he’s horrified to see that their tears haven’t stopped yet and probably won’t for a long time, and Soonyoung laughs wetly at Jihoon’s expression.

“You’re going to have to get used to this,” he giggles. “I cry a lot. Most of the time, it’s about you, though. So it’s your responsibility to make me stop.”

“Oh, no,” Jihoon sighs, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “You’re so stupid, but I like you anyway.”

“I figured that was the point of your whole speech,” Soonyoung teases fondly, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “You’re so mean, but I like you anyway.”

“I figured that was the point of your whole speech,” Jihoon says back mockingly in a high voice.

“Fuck you.”

“If only,” Jihoon responds, flicking Soonyoung’s forehead. “Come on, it stopped raining, let’s go before we’re stuck here again.”

“Yes, sir,” Soonyoung complies, standing up and taking a deep breath. He pulls up Jihoon after some pitiful hand waving, and Jihoon smiles complacently, kissing Soonyoung’s cheek in thanks. He has to lean up, but it’s all the more endearing, and Soonyoung takes pleasure in seeing Jihoon in the passenger seat, being picky about the music on the radio.

He’d imagined this before – he and Jihoon being sickeningly domestic, being casual boyfriends – but he hadn’t thought of how much it would hurt to see Jihoon smile at him again, to have him poke his cheek at random times, to see Jihoon be playful and still a little mean, but kiss away Soonyoung’s pout.

When they get home, they both fall asleep in Soonyoung’s bed, but for once, it’s not naked and sweaty, backs to each other.

For once, Jihoon curls into Soonyoung’s chest and they sleep peacefully, still not sure of the future, still afraid of what is to come, but finally by each other’s sides.

  
  
  



End file.
